My New Year's Poem

1- 1-12 - 2013

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment." ~ Emerson

I’d like to think I’m getting better at living through the years.
As each one passes, I’ve surmounted a few more fears
and left behind some tendencies to get tangled up in gears
that slow down my clock and bring little more than tears.

By focusing on my goals and their respective causes,
I’ve found a source of stability between the loves and losses.
It’s offered me a strength that I use to my advantage,
as I try to live with grace, while incurring minimal more damage.

This isn’t about perfection or even being better than others,
but a belief that you and I are only as good as our gutters,
as our weaknesses and flaws constantly stabbing us in the back
like a city that's being flooded by its very own crap.

It’s a tricky thing we’re given when we’re handed the controls,
of a life others half built and may have blindly filled with holes.
Like landmines in our foundation, or a blueprint full of errors,
and we pick up where they left off amongst the comedy of terrors.

Yet we’re expected to make it work like we all know what we’re doing,
like the world has a use for us that we are knowledgeably pursuing.
But for most it would seem we’re all searching for a light
to illuminate the room with the best parts of life.

It’s safe to say where that room is, we’ve heard it all our lives
as we busy our dizzy selves like desperate houseflies,
from the mouths of our greatest minds and the stories they have told,
to the remarkably simple truths spoken by our young and old.

“You have to look within,” they say, “til you’re not afraid of what you see,
because every time you look away…you lose sight of the enemy.
The only one who can hold you down and keep you from becoming
everything you’ve ever dreamed, without the slightest bit of cunning,

just the goodness of love, along with a beautiful faith
that you weren’t put here to be a victim on behalf of the human race.
That there is more to you than this, whatever this is,
just as there is more to love than a lust for hugs and kisses.

To never stop digging deeper like you’re searching for a bullet
that could be infecting parts of your life with x amounts of bullshit.”
This is what they say to the rest of us, who are as clever as cartoons,
always expecting to get better, without putting pressure on the wounds.

~

This is what I saw growing up, and I’d be damned if I followed suit,
so I broke my pact with the devil, and threw the bible down the chute.
I accepted no one’s answers but the ones I found myself,
and began to pay attention to the thoughts that filled my shelf.

I found that many were not my own, and few were even true,
like my perceptions had been catered by a society with the flu
and a sickness had been spreading that was simply called ‘The Norm’:
once it got its pound of flesh, you were bound to be deformed.

So I resolved to make a change, protect whatever I was
from a world that sought to make me accept whatever it does
as gospels and love and the way things ought to be,
like I can’t tell the difference between truth and falsity.

This was all disturbing, but I found a place inside
where I could be myself and I didn’t have to hide
how much I really loved to live or what made me feel alive,
and in this place I found my art…and that’s when I began to thrive.


 I didn’t think I was good at anything for the better part of my life,
but my writing made that line of thinking slow and then it jackknifed.
I felt like I really had something, and it was incredibly fun,
but I also incessantly doubted myself and was incredibly dumb.

I didn’t have the confidence to do what I needed to do,
and never felt the freedom to follow my dreams through.
Eventually I let it all go, because I didn’t believe in myself.
How often do we squander our unvalued wealth?

However, as you see, that’s not the end of this story,
and I have managed to reclaim a bit of my former glory,
and have put it to good use in some interesting ways
that make my life feel like a ship aptly called, “To Better Days.”

There’s a place for my art in the world that I didn’t see before.
It was there all along, but I was blind to the door
and no one seemed to notice my stumbling potential,
so I figured I was kidding myself thinking this was special.

It was my favorite thing in the world and I treated it like a hobby,
told myself to forget my dreams, and that betrayal was ungodly.
It broke my spirit and made me hate all that I was.
My art atrophied in self-loathing.  My big bang became a blasé buzz.

But it never went away, it just got very very quiet,
like I went from flyin planes, to a desk job at the Hyatt.
The itch was always there to get back into the air
but I had to spend my days acting like I didn’t care.

I was a fool to stop it and to think it could be stopped.
All I did was hang an anvil that would naturally be dropped
on my dumbfounded head almost ten years later,
and the force knocked so much sense, it turned my skull into a crater.

Now I write every day, I am happy to report!
Whether poems thoughts or songs, even essays and letters
the words won’t stop coming out! But…long story short,
as time passed and brought experience, I broke free from my fears,
and slowly found my way back into the stratosphere.

It may not always be great and I’m rarely very technical,
but I enjoy what I make and performing is a spectacle
that I can’t believe I’m a part of, it was once a “wildest dream.”
And now every chance I get makes my inner child scream

with the joy of Christmas presents or a great birthday surprise.
I’ve reached a place in life where all the blessings are undisguised.
And I can’t believe the fortune I had in my hands all this time!
Who knew you could make life better…just by making rhymes?

The power of a purpose is that of a resounding call,
calling everyone who heard it to take that leap despite the fall.
I’ve heard mine loud and clear now, but it was there all along,
and I do not think I’m alone in that. I think we all have a song

that we are meant to sing, that would tell you where you belong,
so you can live without the constant, crippling fear of being wrong.
Because none of that matters, not one judgment is eternal.
The system is designed so you can escape any inferno,

from the one in your head, to the violence you feel and see,
but whether you go up or down is up to you entirely.
You sow the seeds of your future, or you let them be sown,
but whatever you end up with is only yours to own. 

The world is a crazy place, no doubt. Of this, we’re well aware.
Some are born in opportunity, while others in despair.
And while that might make some dreams far-fetched, greatness is always possible.
The abominable only exist as long as allowed by the indomitable.

~

  At this point, all I hope for is to become more of what I am,
to better my self, and if I can, to help my fellow man.
Because I know something of his struggle, I’ve been on both sides,
but you’ll find me smilin in the middle now, cuz I know it’s just a ride.

I cannot ask for much more from life (if you could only see what I’ve been given),
but I see how much more can be done with the storyline I’m livin,
so I try to bend it in more alignment with the universe’s laws,
so I may do that work much longer. God willing, Insh’Allah. 

_

Strongmen

11-1-2004

This guy I work with

“He’s a house,” as people who flit around his porch light say

A giant    like my brother, 6’6” and wide like a flag       thick like a pillar

Probably rips phones books like muscle-Ts        just to kill time

Too big for his own joints

Walks like Frankenstein’s monster

Works security here

Would’ve made a great bully

if it wasn’t for that goofy smile on his…

Might not even shave yet

Face of a little boy with a caterpillar        tickling his cavernous hand

Only this big kid is kind of dumb               you can tell

a little Lennie       and I suddenly wish my brother      was dumb

Here     this spitting image of his senior photo

is standing in front of me        grinning    like he smells candy

or a cheerleader      named Candy     and my brother    with all his brains

boxed    in a surly scowl       is sitting behind bars

he can’t bend

_

Sticks & Stones ~ The Untold Story

 Down below is a video of my latest performance, which was on Thursday at The Opposite, supporting Bangkok Poetry. 

 The poem is old but I've never performed it before. As I told the crowd, I wrote it in university for an assignment. I read it to the class as a part of the assignment, but this was before I was aware of or into performance poetry so I definitely didn't write it with this art form in mind. But once I got back into it these past two years, I started going back through my older stuff looking for pieces that might be somehow WORK as a live performance. This is one that caught my eye. I added it to my list a few months ago, and even recorded an audio file (as I do with anything I'm getting ready to perform) and occasionally listened to it in the playlist to start the long process of internalizing it. Because it's written in blank verse, these poems take time. But if you can start puttin little pieces in your head well in advance, that can make the crunch time (when you  know you NEED to have it ready) go a lot faster and easier. As it was with this poem. 

I've been thinking about performing it lately. It came to mind as a possible foil to the poem I did at Bed Supperclub about kids. Before I knew what Junior wanted me to do exactly (how much time/how many pieces) I was preparing myself for any possibility. So sticks and stones were on my mind. 

But that night only called for one poem, so I put it back on the back back burner. And then when I got word of the next poetry night--but only after someone nudged me when I said I wasn't sure if I would do it or not And I WOKE UP--then I finally thought about what poem I would do. I could've done the Montecristo kids poem, but...I've already done it twice now, and three times in a row.......kinda makes me turn my lip up. I have issues with repetition. Even THOUGH none of the people from the first two performances were probably even at that poetry night....it bugs me. Maybe it's cuz I think it's bad for the poem. To use it so flippantly. Like it only has so many uses in its life and I don't wanna use them all up too quick. Does that make sense to you? I really have no idea, but that's kinda how I see it. The more you use something, the more you see something, the more you are exposed to it, the more it loses its power, or its power over you. This isn't true for EVERYTHING, but a lot. I'm probably being overly cautious with this particular example, but...there is more to it than that as well.

 Anyway, so yeah, I didn't really feel like performing that poem again so soon. Which brought me to remember the poem down below. And as I soon as I thought about it, I was like, "Alright, cool. Let's do it. The time has come." And I started practicing it like a week in advance. Even changed a few words around and ADDED a whole section to it. There's a verse/paragraph that wasn't there before. I had the idea to add it months ago and it still appealed to me so I did. It's a pretty cool performance piece now. Very solid in content. And, the performance of it itself went down really well. They seemed to really like the piece. And...I messed up a little bit, but no biggie. When you mess up on a light poem, it's way more forgivable than when you mess up on a real serious or heavy poem. Speaking for myself. Even though I changed the pronouns to you for some reason. But yeah, it was cool. 

Check out the video, lemme know what you think. PEACE!

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Sticks & Stones:

The Untold Story

 

 9-24-2002

                                                        “If he only knew now
                                                                                       what he knew then”
                                                                                                            -Eddie Vedder

I remember a time
  when the word “play”
   wasn’t sexual
 and “fudge” 
was as close as I got 
     to the “F” word

  It just 
   felt 
  wrong

I remember a state of mind
  in which it was logically possible
  to jump out of tree
   while gripping the thin plastic handles
     of a white grocery bag
  and parachute 
             to the ground

  Only after the sudden landing thinking
    “I must not have been high enough”

I remember a place
   where my imagination
     was my imaginary friend
   and I spent the whole days
     outside trying to keep up
         with him
  as my real friends and I
 blew things up
     with rock grenades
 (sound effects included)
 and fearlessly
       shot ninjas out of trees
    with lethal guns made of
          sticks, toilet paper rolls
and electrical tape

  We were fighting for our lives

But I know now
we were fighting
for our childhood

I remember my friends.  They were brothers, Franky and Marcial.  They lived up the street, and I played with them almost everyday during the summers, yet the only memory I have of them being inside my house was for a birthday party.  The acre of land around my house was enough. That land was ours.  The trees, dirt, and dry, brittle bushes, were so rich and fertile, we planted our imagination in them everyday and grew battlegrounds budding with forts made from the trees’ discarded skin.  It was magical.  Sometimes when one of us had to go ask permission to go to the other’s house, which ever two stayed behind would close their eyes and chant, “I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can,” until the other came back with an answer.  And every time we did that…it worked.  It never failed us. The tighter we squeezed our eyes closed the better. “I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can.” That was how powerful we were.  That was our magic.

I even remember one time where we wanted to go up to their house so I had to ask permission but I didn’t wannu cuz my mom was in such a foul mood that day that I knew she’d say no and then just by being near her I might spontaneously end up in trouble. But they really wanted me to come over, so I was like “alright, I’ll go ask but don’t do it, don’t do I hope he can.” Cuz I knew it wasn’t gonna work and we were so amazed by this power’s existence that…I didn’t want to break it, and if there was anything more powerful than our collective hopes it was definitely my mother’s anger. And we really only used it in the most urgent situations, like…a new toy, and that day wasn’t anything special so I didn’t think it was worth it. So I was like don’t do it, and they said, okay, we won’t. So I went inside and asked my mom and was like Hey mommmm, do you think I could go up to Frankie’s for a little bit and she said…“Sure,” and I was like !!!!!  but I couldn’t do that so I was like 0_0, and kinda slowly backed out the door and as soon as I got outside I ran like crazy to Frankie and Marcial like OH MY GOSH, YOU GUYS, YOU WONT BELIEVE....and as soon as I got over the hill I see them sittin there…

“I hope he can I hope he can I hope he can I hope he can I hope he can…”

It worked every time

I remember when they moved.  I remember thinking how strange it was that families would just “move.”  It made me happy to know that my family would never do that.  I knew we weren’t like them.  We would always live in that house that we moved out of a year later.  I didn’t know.  I didn’t know I would never see Franky and Marcial ever again.  I didn’t know what we had, that we were magicians.  I didn’t know that power would weaken like the bite of guilt hidden behind each curse word, or what “innocence” even was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I'm not sure exactly when this was, but it is the house that is in this poem. I took this pic the last time I visited that town in...late 2004/early 2005, somewhere around there.  When we lived there (15 years earlier) it looked so different. Grass in the yards with climbing rose bushes and various other flowers and small trees. Quite beautiful. But at least you get to see somethin of what I'm talking about. I still love that house. Still wish I could teleport it, just like I did when I was a kid.

There is Hope!

Ohhh yes....oh yes I do

So last week was pretty crazy. Not extremely crazy, or really crazy, just…pretty crazy. It was Valentine’s week and while the holiday had nothing to do with the craziness, it also had everything to do with the craziness.

Through a fortunate series of events and connections I’ve been getting more and more out there (in Bangkok) as a poet, as a performer and the like, and that’s been pretty cool. Almost every time I perform, a door presents itself. An opportunity appears and…I’ve done my best to Not Say No. I figure saying no kinda contradicts the whole concept of having AMBITIONS.

But so far, so (really) good. Just as I aspired and foresaw over a year ago, things are happening, things are crackin and coming together. I’m meeting cool people who see what I see (the potential of this art form) and little by little, we’re makin shit happen.

Understand, all I really wanna do is get it out there! I just wanna share what I have to share with the most people possible. That’s IT for me, that’s the end game. I really don’t care how this comes about, or what I get out of it in return (it’s not like I could expect much, we are, after all, talking about POETRY here!), but when I start getting invitations to do what I do and get paid for it….Well Alright, yeah, that’s pretty fuckin cool too! :-)
And that, my friends, is what has started happening. Last week I got paid for my poetry, which is a crazy sentence to say. However, the circumstances in which this happened are Even Crazier!

Guys, you’re not going to believe this, or rather, you’re not going to be able to imagine this, but somebody paid me money to recite LOVE poetry. LOVE POETRY! To people. Having dinner. IN THE DARK.

No. Joke. :)

This is what I did last week. On two separate occasions! WILDEST Fucking EXPERIENCE to ever come out of being a poet! Lol. It was SO crazy. So weird and so crazy. You might’ve seen my post on facebook about Dining in the Dark, this is what I’m talking about. Eating an entire three-course meal in absolute darkness, and then I COME IN, with some love poetry!

I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried folks. LOL.

It was pretty wild. I don’t know what it was like for the dinner guests on Valentine’s night, the first night, but it was bizarrrrrre as hell for me. Imagine doing what I do, and then imagine being led into a room that you’ve never been in before, a room that has not an ounce of light, in which you can hear people eating and talking like any other restaurant, and then YOU begin reciting love poetry to these people and no one can see anything! Weeeeird. But wild. ONE of a KIND experience. And all I can say is, WHY NOT?

Why shouldn’t that be happening somewhere in the world, and why not have me be in the middle of it? The world needs more poetry, that much I know, and I gotta do whatever I can to help feed that famine. ...Assuming that is how you bring a famine to an end.

It was a trip for so many reasons tho…

1). LOVE POETRY!?! Really?! This is how I’m going to make my first check in the world of poetics? LOVE POETRY?? HAHAHA, all I can do is laugh. The irony of it is astounding. I haven’t written a love poem since 2005! That unto itself could tell you all kinds of things! I would’ve NEVER Predicted this, not in a million years! A couple of those poems are from my teens and a couple I’ve NEVER shared publicly before! Not even online. And after all the work I’ve been doin honing my craft, sharpening my spear to fight the good fight against all the "evils in the world," when I finally get called to duty, “Uhhh, yeah, we just need a couple nice love poems. Think you could do that? Thanks.” Really world? REALLY??? That’s so funny!

(look, a picture of a couple pretty girls, to distract you from how much you're reading, ahhhhhh )
thanks for the pics Johnny!

2). It’s IN THE DARK! So much for being a “PERFORMANCE Poet!” Lol, it’s like a violinist playing to the deaf! It’s a good thing my old love poems aren’t performance poems, that would’ve just been confusing. Plus I probably would’ve knocked something over. But think about it, all those hours spent practicing my performances, getting every nuance and hand gesture down and then, when the time comes to shine, “Uhhhh, actually, nobody’s going to be able to see you.”

*cue the sound effect* WAAwaaaaah.

The romantic, artistic contributions for the night
1 violinist + 1 poet = business time!

3). MY LOVE POETRY??! MINE?? My love poetry ain’t NOTHIN great! It’s just not. I’m bein honest. It’s decent, it’s cool, but it’s nothin that I’m real proud of or would EVER show off as a great example of love poetry! God no. As if that type of poetry alone wasn’t unexpected enough, the poetry HAD to be memorized (no light!), and I only had about 3 days notice, which left me with one option: ME! WTF!? Lol, that was it, that was my immediate reaction to this situation that just lands at my feet.. I’m lookin up at God goin, “Really?? This is what you want me to be doin?” Cuz let’s all agree there is incredible love poetry out there, there are the GREATS. Too many to name, and I’m sure most of you know them. But I would’ve been 10 times more comfortable reading one of the greats. I mean these people are there celebrating Valentine’s day and their love and they deserve to hear the best, to be INSPIRED and have their breath taken away, not listen to my watered down cheesy shit! :-) I consider that a whole genre unto itself because it is SO HARD to do well. It’s just incredibly difficult to Add anything to that milieu that isn’t plagued with feelingless clichés. It’s all been said before. I wouldn’t DARE try to write a love poem unless I was crazy in love because you have to be crazy to think you can write something original or worthy of seeing the light of day in that one sacred context.

But yeah, there’s no way I could memorize 4 poems in a couple days, so I had to go with the couple I already had memorized from back in the day and couple I had memorized back in the day and could learn again real quick. Good enough, I guess. I mean, I wouldn’t have agreed to do it if I thought that they were bad, but…I felt like they’re good enough for public consumption so I went along with it. Cuz, fuck, you never know until you try. And this is definitely worth a try, if not just to write a blog about!
4). Comfort Zone = Ground Zero. I could easily run out of adjectives trying to describe how twisted that experience was. You CAN NOT Imagine what it was like! Standing there, in the dark, trying to impart some semblance of romance to the air of these people with words that probably are not endowed for such a task. Wow, it was just like Wow. One of the most vivid experiences I’ve ever had, and I couldn’t see a thing.

But you know what? I did it. I knew it’d be crazy and weird and uncomfortable, but I still said yes and went along for the ride and became that much more experienced AND shared poetry with a few people who might not have heard any for a very long time. Woo-freakin-hoo, that’s pretty cool.

I’m on a journey, one I never thought I would ever embark on, but embark on it I have. And I knew from the beginning that it would take me to places I could never dream or imagine as I went on my wordy way, most of which would be so new to me that I couldn’t help but feel uneasy, scared, or daunted by it. But there’s something I’ve been doing a really good job at keeping in mind, and I remembered it that night too! “When you want something you’ve never had, you have to do something you’ve never done.” That---is----it. I gotta keep that in mind, otherwise my comfort zone and inhibitions will trip me up or slow me down. Bear in mind, there is a difference between integrity and comfort zone, I’ll still stick to my principles, but I know there are other parts of me that will be challenged, and they should be challenged.

FEAR, be damned!

So yeah, there you have it, you now know a poet---Who got PAID! How unbelievable is that!? There is Hope my friends, there is hope! For this world, for us, for doing the right thing, AND for POETRY! And if we just keep working together, we can work some of these kinks out, and there will be a little more harmony, a little more understanding, and (no…yesss…No..yesss, I’m gonna say it!) a little more love.

I gotta especially thank Adam Sharpe and Benjamin Baskins for seein potential in this art and making use of it and supporting me as an artist, givin me opportunities to show unsuspecting people what I can do in unexpected places. Them along with the rest of the guys behind LUSH definitely get thanks, just for being open to such a crazy incorporation as Poetry into the cool things they do. I don’t care why you do it, or what you think about it, I think in the big picture of things it’s an admirable thing to do and noble too! The world NEEDS more poetry, and could really make use of it too. In this fast paced world where fewer and fewer people are developing a love for literature and reading (and attentions spans shrink like shrink wrap), this is such a digestible, accessible form of art that can get in people’s heads, plant seeds or spur thoughts into action.

There is room for poetry, we can squeeze it in.

I’m really happy to be involved in the art I happen to be in. I really think it CAN make a difference and it has so much potential for growth in the consciousness of everyday people. So much room to grow, and I am ecstatic to help it do that in all the ways I can. It’s a great cause, for the people and the kids who find their voice in it, much like myself.

It’s only February, folks. I’ve told many of you this is just the beginning, that this year will be huge for me. And it will. This was just a road mark, much bigger things are coming that won’t need to be celebrated with a blogpost because they’ll be a celebration unto themselves.

Like I once told a friend, there’s two ways that you can really get people’s attention: you can either do something they’ve never seen before, or you do something SO WELL that they can’t help but take notice. Obviously, with a lot of effort, I’m trying to the do the latter, but luckily I happen to be doing it in a place where this really hasn’t been seen before, so that’s working to my advantage too. Either way, This IS Happening, guys. Make no doubt about it.

Thanks to all of you who are coming with me (90% of which probably read this whole thing! ♥ you guys), and those of you who are working behind the scenes (right now) to help me get there. You know who you are. We’ll pop bottles when the time comes. ;)

My success is your success. If we’re in this together, how could it be any other way?

Cheers!

Crystal Countenance

While I was writing the last post I thought about including one of my old pieces from HS. Just to give you an idea of how angsty and indignant I was back then (especially towards my peers), and how it came out in my writing. This is a pretty good example, one I still remember well. I guess you could say it's dedicated to everyone who's ever wasted my time with "social niceties" and/or subscribed to the idea that we're all supposed to act and think the same way. Which is pretty much the dominant point of view of any high school, right? Still, the extent of it was very disturbing to me and I thought for sure the movie Disturbing Behavior was based on true events. ;-)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crystal Countenance

11-23 - 25-98

In all the great expectations
I am the unexpected
I don't want to be the norm
and I don't care if I'm accepted
Just see me for who I am
and make your decision
Would you rather see me as a person
or like an apparition
Not that I need to remind you
to place your judgments upon me
You people have been doing it for years
I wouldn't expect it any differently
I'm just getting really tired
of all the B.S.
The acting, empty "Hi"s,
and constant fake-ness
You people know I'm strange
You know I'm not like you
We live in different lights
We see in different hues
Get over it already
It's not a big deal
The ability to be unique
isn't strictly surreal
It is still possible
for a person to be original
tread a new path
or do somethin' else irrational
Just stop pretending
and acting like you care
You know you don't like knowing me
So forget that I'm there
Stop wasting my time
and for once in your life be true
You might as well look past me
'Cuz I already see through you

I Have Not Been Myself

I have not been myself. For a while now. I mean, I have been lately, but…that was a pretty recent development. Up until last year, I was not myself. At least not in the best sense of the word. I was something less than that. A watered down version of myself. “KJ .50”. For years. And I didn’t even know it. And the day I became aware of the extent of it was the day that that changed. 1 night, over a year ago. Blink. Boom. Reformed. I was not myself for nearly 10 years. My god that’s a long time. Such a shame, such a waste. Passing thru life like a ghost, only so alive. Only so happy to be alive. This was me. I was becoming “just another cog.” With little in the way of aspiration or ambition. And I was okay with that. Seemingly. There was one period of “greatness” in my life when I was younger. A time when I began to feel great, but also see signs of greatness (in some way) within me. It started in high school, when, for the first time in my life, life started to seem good. Even…nice sometimes. I think a lot of this had to do with the circle of friends I had found who gave me my first taste of true friendship. And, collectively, my first taste of unconditional love and “family” (at least as far as most people experience that word). I felt comforted and un-alone, and had people I could be myself around for the first time. Whoa, crazy. Along with that, my freshman year, I found my art. Which was big to me then, and exciting then and interesting then, but…I don’t think I realized what I had. Or that there was anything really special about it. And I don’t mind putting some of the blame for that on the people around me. There was a surprising lack of support from “adults” in my world. Family and teachers alike. It’s kind of weird to me now. It’s like nobody sees each other’s potential. It's like nobody wants anybody to do better than themselves. And on top of that, I assure you it was drilled into my head that there was no “future” in choosing to be a poet. I HAD to be practical. Fair enough. Wait…no it’s not. Regardless, I didn’t have to worry about that stuff til after I graduated, and by Junior year I was VIBING. Vibrating with life and ideas. I had so much energy and so much enthusiasm for everything I was doing. And I think part of that was having less stress in my life than ever before. I was beginning to feel peace. I was writing a poem every day sometimes. One day I had an idea and just decided to start my own writing club in the school! The only one of its kind. I had another idea and STAGED poems in cahoots with the drama department and won an award for “best director.” These were relatively small things that were big signs. Or should have been. I was a mover and a shaker and I could MAKE things HAPPEN. This was news to me. Everything was going fantastically. Well….aside from having to throw out the annual bucket of unrequited love, everything was going fantastically!

I had begun thinking big and dreaming big. I was beginning to see my potential. I was growing. A lot. Things were coming out of me that…had power to them. In them. And I felt like I had a responsibility to put these gifts to use, to not waste them. And I really thought I would, I really thought I’d see these dreams thru. How could I not? The signs were too clear. When ALL the signs say “Go THAT way,” what kind of idiot wouldn’t go THAT WAY? By the end of high school, life was good. Understand, in general, I hated my high school. The education was fine, and I was a pretty good student by then, but the people and the culture just sucked. You have no idea how long it took me to figure out that “People don’t suck, it’s just Phoenix!” But thankfully, by the end of it I had found maybe half a dozen people I really cared about AND (this was new!) genuinely seemed to care about ME. You have no idea how good that felt. It was in the fortress of their friendship that I felt safe enough to pull the pieces my self out and put them back together. I rebuilt myself under their watch. Thank you. I was feeling SO GOOD and so alive at the end of my senior year, that I had my first conscious and visceral experience of psychic phenomena!

After graduation, the school hosted an all night party, and we actually went. Because…that’s what all the cool kids did. Ha. At the end of the night (i.e. 5 in the morning), which was a truly wonderful night, we were all in the cafeteria for the last hurrah and a big raffle. The raffle was of course just a gimmick to get us to stay the whole night and not go out and kill ourselves stupid. I didn’t care about it, but everyone who came was like automatically entered in or something. And there were some badass prizes, so yeah, we were there. Sitting there around the lunch table, FOR THE LAST TIME. Lunch tables that some of us had NEVER even sat at before (we all ate outside, in a corner usually, like we were hiding from the fucking world. A lot of my friends were in Sci-fi club and had a penchant for black trench coats. Nuff said). There we were, Class of ’99, getting all sentimental and shit over our plastic cups of coke, and it happened. I was enjoyin the last hour of the party, talkin, listenin, laughin, whatever. Tired but alive. And there, in the midst of that, the strangest sensation came over me. Suddenly, my entire body….wanted to stand up. I had no idea what was going on, I just felt this push in my mind, telling me over and over to do something that I didn’t understand. I did Not want to suddenly stand up in the middle of the cafeteria for no reason at all! That was not something that I wanted to do, I valued my invisibleness. But some part of me was trying to tell me what to do in a language I was not familiar with. In the midst of that sensation, I heard my name. And then I heard it again. And it wasn’t just in my head, I knew that after the second time. And because people started to look at me. My name was being called, quite loudly. Over the speaker system. I was being called to the “stage.” I had won something in the raffle.

I immediately stood up. Thrilled to give in to this crazy impulsive urge. Even though I was still trying to process what was happening. “What.….just….happened?” I think I stood there for a second like, “What the fuck WAS THAT?” The fact that I won something was cool (and weird), BUT….something way bigger just took place in my little existence. The whole way up to the stage my head felt like it was in a dream. I was not there. This could not be happening.

Somehow….I knew this was going to happen several SECONDS before it happened. Some part of me knewwww. How is that possible?

Needless to say, that experience redefined the word “possibility.” My mind was reeling. What a message to receive. It’s one thing to believe, it’s a whole nother thing to know. From experience. Experience trumps faith, and always will. This was mine, this was just another door blown open. My mind used to be a cell, but now it’s full of skylights.

There are so many well-defined lines that can be blurred. That’s what that experience taught me, phenomenally, for whatever reason. And here’s the thing, I won three hundred dollars in plane ticket vouchers. Which is a pretty cool prize. BUT….I never used em. Just never used em. Just like that. It’s safe to say that…my life was pretty sheltered in certain ways. I would say this was a sign of that shelteredness. I had only flown in a plane like twice up to then, and it was by no means normal for me to “travel” on my own. Why am I putting that in quotes? I have no idea! I guess cuz that word was pretty foreign to me back then. It’s not that I didn’t have that kind of independence, I just didn’t have that kind of freedom.

My point is though…I Had That ONE OF A KIND EXPERIENCE over something that would lead to nothing. Wow. Do you see what that means? That didn’t happen because that trip was fated to be some huge turning point in my life that was echoing backwards into the present. It wasn’t. It never happened. I sensed the future about something completely insignificant. It happened because it happened. It happened because it’s POSSIBLE. Because I was ready for it to happen, because my mind happened to be in that perfect place that would allow for such a blur in the time continuum to occur. All within that tiny space that is my awareness. Lucky me. Still, what a thing to know.

:-P

But yeah, that’s how good my life WAS. And my state of mind. And my relationship to the abstract. It all climaxed when I was 18. My life was better than it had ever been before and that was largely due to the fact that my understanding of life was better than it had ever been before. I got it. And it’s worth noting that this culminated with the end of my search for God. I "found" him. All by my lonesome. I went from being a nonbeliever and an active skeptic to the opposite. I opened my mind to it, I searched, and God came in. It was all adding up. I could see it now. For the first time in my life, my life made sense.

This was good. This was all very good. But unfortunately my life on the outside, hadn’t changed as much as I had changed within. I was still the son of the same parents. I was still the brother of the same siblings. I was still living in the same vapid city. I was still a product of a failed system and all of its drama. My friends were the only consistent source of positive experience (that didn’t completely exist in my head). And ultimately, that was the problem. I had overcome a lot of adversity, but there were still some things I was just too scared to do. Like telling my family and the world around me what I believed I could do. With words, with poems, with lyrics. I couldn’t break out of that box. My family has always been my kryptonite, despite the best of intentions.

I did not have the wherewithal to see it thru, to see thru what I knew needed to be seen. And said. And heard. And shared. I failed. And I did it by choice. Which is quite a kicker. Still kicks me in the gut every now and then. The Alchemist went from being one of my favorite books to a source of guilt and shame. I betrayed myself, I stabbed my own life in the back. After everything that had ever been dumped on me, the one to break me was me. It sucked. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. Within a couple years, I could hardly call myself a writer. And it set me on a course that would take TEN YEARS to complete. One big loop, one big detour full of little detours. What a trip. Despite all I’ve ever learned, and all I’ve been given, I still gotta do things the slow way. Sucks.
For all those years, I was living, and encountering people and touching lives and being touched by lives and I wasn’t even myself! I was not being the best me I could be. I was not representing human existence as I knew it should be, full of verve and splendor. I was barely invested in the story of us. I was not appreciating what I had or what I was given. I was not in love with life. And I was okay with rarely feeling GREAT.
I almost feel like I should apologize to all those people I came to love or came to love me then for never showing them my best. I’m sorry. You all deserve better. I hope that you will open your minds to all that I really am. It only gets better. I promise. Unless you don’t really like me that much. Then.....it probably…..doesn’t.It’s a silly thing to dwell on, but if I do, it brings me down. What a shame. To go from such a high to such a lifeless medium. To go from being a catalyst of good and betterment to being a glimmer in the window of your own life. Silly.

But you know what, that’s what life does to us. It makes us less than ourselves. Kills us by degree. It’s the deaths we never see. Our inner child, our spirit, our innocence, our belief. It’s the deaths we never see that affect us the most.

But whatever, thank god for second chances. These things can be regrown, the abstract world is very plentiful. I’m back now. And I am truthfully better than ever. Positive energy is an amazing thing and can take you to great places IF you can harness it. And truly believing in yourself is like throwing off the chains of doubt and sprouting wings. I would suggest doing both, if you have something worth flying for.
My life right now is better than it has EVER been. And I think it’s worth noting that that is a pretty remarkable thing to be able to say. I am thankful for it. I have been more alive and more creative this past year than I have ever been before. And the quality of my work AND my life have risen to new heights. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: it’s a really exciting time to be me. And the opportunities on the horizon are absolutely TITILLATING. I would be jealous if I were you, but thankfully, I am me. ;-)